


Literal Porn with Plot

by Tomato_Feline



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Casual Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Porn, Porn With Plot, Smut, like this is literal porn with cameras and everything, people having sex for money, porn stardom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-20 08:12:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11916792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomato_Feline/pseuds/Tomato_Feline
Summary: They joined for different reasons, but all of them are part of the same project. Together, they debut into the world of gay porn.





	1. Scotch and flowers and business cards

The music was too loud. The people were too close. The lights were too bright.  
Evan was too drunk.  
When Brian had invited him to this party, he had been nothing but excited. Parties were his element, and he felt most comfortable in the midst of dancing bodies with a shot glass in hand. But then he had caught his girlfriend cheating, his boss had fired him, and his girlfriend threw him out of their shared apartment so she could screw his boss again. To put it simply, he'd had a shitty Friday morning.  
With only two suitcases and a duffel bag holding the entirety of his possessions, he had walked to Brian's, arriving two hours later, telling his tale and begging his friend to let him stay the night. Distraught for him, Brian had insisted Evan stay in his guest room for as long as he needed. He had also been about to call off his party, but Evan knew the Irishman had been planning this for the last two weeks, and demanded the party continue.  
Now he sat on Brian’s suede couch, chugging scotch like soda and watching people he knew blend in with the strangers as they moved past him and his misery. A few cushions away two girls sucked each other’s faces, and he was reminded of his girlfriend… ex-girlfriend and his boss and what they were probably doing in his bed right now.  
He took another swig of scotch.  
“Are you Evan Fong?”  
Tilting his head up slowly to avoid hurting his pulsing brain, he was met with a smile as bright as the strobe lights, and closed his eyes in self defense. Reopening them, he took the hand offered to him, letting it shake his own three quick times.  
“My name’s Marcel. I'm Brian’s manager.”  
“Brian's manager?”  
Brian's line of work was not something he and his friend normally discussed, mainly because it made the Irishman uncomfortable to go into the details. This is what Evan knew; Brian was a pornstar, and he was a successful one.  
“Yup,” Marcel answered Evan’s half-question, though Evan had nearly forgotten it himself. “You do know what Brian does, correct?”  
Evan nodded. Marcel took the seat beside him, which had been vacated by the affectionate couple when Evan hadn't been paying attention. The manager took a shiny piece of card stock from his shirt pocket and laid it on Evan’s thigh.  
“My card. Look, Evan, I'm not going to beat around the bush, because no amount of sweet talk will change your mind if you don't want to do this. I'm recruiting for a new project, I know you are recently without a job, and you're pretty much exactly what the producer is looking for.”  
Evan blinked at the other, worrying the card between his fingers.  
“You want me to do a porno?”  
“Yes, I want you to do a porno.”  
Evan blinked some more, and he folded the card in half. Marcel saw his stunned look and continued on.  
“I know you're in a rough spot right now, and I don't want you to think I'm trying to take advantage of it, but this is my job, and I think you could benefit from this.”  
“So what? I'd just have to fuck a chick, and I get paid,” Evan snorted, wincing at how much he sounded like a jackass. Marcel winced as well.  
“Well, actually… it's a gay porno.”  
“Scotch?” Evan offered after he took another heavy swig, and Marcel declined.  
“It's also going to be a large scale project, so it's not gonna be a one-and-done gig, but the producer wants fresh faces. Look, I'm not going to sit here and go through the details, mainly because you're drunk off your ass. Call me when you sober up, let me know what you decide before Wednesday; that's the casting.”  
The manager stood, patted Evan on the shoulder, and vanished into the crowd. Evan tipped his bottle into his mouth, realized it was empty, and tucked Marcel’s wrinkled card into his pocket just before he blacked out.

The subway car jostled its passengers, but the man’s gaze remained firmly on Ryan. Ryan’s gaze remained firmly on his own shoes.  
He was getting used to random strangers staring at him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He hadn't asked for it, hadn't asked for his fame, hadn't asked for the burning eyes or the grazing hands whenever he went to his favorite clubs.  
Ryan was a famous pornstar, but it was an accident.  
He had been dating a guy he'd met at the library for a few months. They'd been very intimate and physical, and it had hardly surprised Ryan when his lover had brought a friend over late one night and started talking to him about experimenting.  
The threesome had been fucking amazing.  
What wasn't amazing was when the new guy let slip a joke about a popular porn site the next morning, when Ryan’s lover had hurriedly hushed his friend, when Ryan had let his suspicions control his keyboard and computer and take him to the site.  
When he had found himself on the site.  
It turned out Ryan was very popular. Ryan’s lover had been recording their intimate moments and uploading them for the public to see. Even the first time they'd done the deed was there, in a little rectangular thumbnail with a white play button pasted on top.  
The most recent entry was the threesome, and it was breaking records. Ryan’s fans loved what he did, and his latest tryst had them going wild.  
Ryan hated all of them; his now ex-boyfriend, his ex-boyfriend’s stupid friend, and all his goddamn fans.  
It had been nearly two months, and still he could tell when someone recognized him, when they realized the name-tagged man behind the counter at the convenience store was the little moaning slut from their computer screen. They would stare, make obnoxious comments.  
The middle-aged man watching him now luckily stayed seated. He stayed seated while Ryan exited the train. He was more behaved than some of the others, and Ryan was grateful.  
Trudging up the stairwell to his apartment, Ryan felt exhausted. He just hoped none of his stalker-esque fans had left flowers at his door, like they had several times in the last month. It was both sweet and disturbing. No, it was just plain disturbing.  
Nothing was in front of his door, but when he opened it, a large Manila envelope skidded across the tile floor.  
Inside were several papers and a whole lot of cash.  
“Holy shit.”

“Jonathan?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Another round?”  
“Tired.”  
“Alright.”  
Luke rolled off his friend-with-benefits and pulled the sheets up to their chests. He glanced at the table clock to check the time and glimpsed the business card jutting out of his pants pocket; his pants had been hurriedly thrown off and apparently landed on the nightstand. The card was cool on his fingers as he grasped it, but the roughed edges scraped across his calluses in a way that annoyed him greatly.  
His friend Brock’s manager, Scotty, had given him the card along with a proposition.  
“Jonathan?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Wanna do a porno?”  
“Sure.”


	2. Wednesdays and amateurs and coffee

Craig arrived a little late to the casting, but his manager John was pissed at him as though he'd missed the entire thing to go grab some Starbucks.  
“I'm sorry,” he soothed. “But there was an accident on sixth and my bus got stuck in the traffic.”  
“You sure you didn't just get cold feet?” John challenged.  
“Pretty sure, you bastard.”  
It was true that Craig, or Mini as he was known online, was a bit nervous to be jumping from his previous career into a very eager project. But he simply did not chicken out once he made a decision.  
“Starbucks?” Craig offered the extra cup he had in his hand.  
Okay, maybe he had decided to take a slightly later bus to go on a coffee run, but there had been traffic.  
John wordlessly took his latte and motioned for his talent to sit down with the other auditioning men. Craig took a creaking plastic chair next to a tall blonde. It was hard to tell if he was naturally pale or about to pass out; from the look on the kid’s face, he was willing to bet on the latter.  
“New?” he guessed and offered a smile. The kid startled and then hesitantly smiled back.  
“That obvious?”  
“A little, yeah. It's okay, everyone is real nervous when they get started. It's a lot to get used to, you know?”  
“I sure do. So I take it you're… more used to it?”  
The tone implied the blonde was trying not offend him, but Mini didn't see any offense to be taken, and tilted one hand back and forth.  
“Sort of. I've only ever done straight stuff before. This'll be the first gay project I'll be trying for.”  
“What made you decide to try it?”  
“Couple of things; the money's good, the producer is highly regarded, my manager has been wanting me to, and I figured I might as well give it a shot. Plus, from what I understand, this film is meant for amateurs, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to try.”  
“Any advice for an utter amateur?”  
“Just don't think too much about it being a porno. Try to enjoy what you're doing, and be open to new things.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah. The people want to see someone having fun. So that's what you do,” he explained, and then offered his hand. “I'm Craig, by the way.”  
“Bryce,” the kid replied as they shook hands. Just as they pulled away, the door from the hallway burst open so violently, the hinges scraped and the knob rebounded off the wall. A brunette, one who looked vaguely familiar to Mini, marched through, setting the room afire with his gaze. His inferno eyes settled on John, who was the only person dressed up in a suit.  
“You work here?”  
“Ah, no, I'm just…”  
“I need to talk to this bastard producer.”  
The room was suddenly dead silent, and the mumble of voices came from the producer’s office, where he was in the middle of an interview. This new angry brunette marched towards the sounds, pulling away when John tried to grab his arm.  
“Wait, you can't go back there right-”  
Unfortunately, the office door was not locked, and the man walked through, slamming the door back shut in John’s face. Everyone in the room stared, silent, and heard the voices from the other side cut off as well.  
“Is that a normal thing?” Bryce whispered.  
“Hell no.”

“As I've already said, you're too experienced,” the producer sighed yet again.  
“And I'm telling you, I've been at this for barely a month, and you're gonna have nothing but a shit show if you have nothing but dumbass newbies who can't tell an asshole from a belly button!”  
“What Tyler is trying to say,” broke in Scotty, “is that you need someone with at least a little professional experience to keep things on track, Smitty. Someone to guide the others if they get a little confused.”  
“But the whole point of this film is to see people with various levels of inexperience.”  
“And for contrast, you should have someone with a little experience.”  
“I admit,” groaned Smitty, rubbing at his eyelids, “you make a good point, Scotty. Fine, Tyler; pending the usual tests, you're hired. I'll send Scotty the paperwork, just see Mike on your way out.”  
“Glad we could-”  
Scotty was interrupted when a red faced brunette marched in, whipping his head to glare at the man in the tri-colored baseball cap.  
“Are you Smitty?”  
“Mr. Ryan Wrecker,” the producer greeted with a smile, pushing away from his desk. “I'm glad you could make it. Tyler, Scotty, would you mind showing yourselves out?”  
“Aren't you that guy who's been real popular the last month?” Tyler questioned, eyeing Ryan.  
“Now is not the time,” Smitty said, pushing the taller man from his chair and out the door, followed by his manager. “I have some things to discuss with Mr. Wrecker.”  
The door shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second chapter. I'm trying to decide how often I should update because I have several chapters prewritten but I don't want to get ahead of myself and update too quickly. Have to see, I guess.  
> ~peace


	3. Money and agreements and names

“So,” began Smitty, once he'd talked Ryan into sitting down across from him. “How would you like a job?”  
“How the hell did you get my address?!”  
“You're boyfriend made his own information public, so I contacted him and he told me how to get ahold of you. For a fee, of course. Sorry to hear about the breakup, by the way.”  
“That asshole never misses a chance to fuck me over, does he?!” Ryan snarled to no one in particular. Smitty frowned.  
“I took from some things he mentioned that you were unaware of the taping?”  
“No, I was not aware.”  
“I'm sorry about that. But I want you to know, as you probably already do, that you are terribly popular. You could really go far in this business.”  
“Go far fucking? Really? Gee, Mama is gonna be so proud!”  
“Okay, I get where you're coming from. I know this isn't what you were expecting. But I can make it worth your while.”  
“You mean with this?” Ryan snapped, slamming the stack of bills that had been delivered to his apartment down onto the desk. “No thanks!”  
“That's just a little incentive, yes,” Smitty smiled sheepishly. “And you can keep that, even if you don't do the job. Consider it payment for coming in here to talk.”  
Ryan glared but took the cash back.  
“Now, how much would it take to get you on board?”  
“How much?”  
“Just name a number, baby.”

Bryce watched as the brunette from earlier marched out of the office, clutching several papers in his fist and not meeting anyone's eye. When he finally vanished into the hall, Craig nudged his arm.  
“That entrance of his may have been dramatic, but looks like he still got the job.”  
“Guess so,” Bryce replied, trying for the millionth time to swallow the lump in his throat.  
The office door swung open, and the man in the baseball cap looked at a clipboard as he called into the room.  
“Bryce McQuaid?”  
“That's me,” Bryce called quietly back, getting to his feet.  
“Good luck, Bryce!” Craig cheered. The blonde smiled back at him gratefully as he shut the door behind him.  
“So as I'm sure you already know since you're here, I'm Smitty, and I'm collecting new talent for a gay porno project. If my recruiters aren't misinformed, you would be my ace in the hole.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You're a virgin, right?”  
Bryce felt the heat as his face surely turned red.  
“Y-yes,” he stuttered, embarrassment flooding him so fast he was afraid it would stop his heart. Smitty hummed and cocked his head.  
“Strip, please.”  
“What?”  
“Virgin or not, and I'll be looking into that, you have to have a certain look. A certain look in the nude as well. Also, I have to check for signs of disease. This is just a normal part of the audition, I swear.” Smitty hit a small button on his desk. “Mike, if you're not busy, could you bring the testing materials in here?”  
“Sure thing,” crackled a voice from the speakers.  
“Now, strip. If you're gonna do this, you need to be comfortable in the nude, Bryce.”  
Turning away and taking his time, Bryce shed his clothing. When he was down to his boxers, a dark-haired man holding a box slid in the door.  
“This the guy?” he asked, nodding towards Bryce and setting the box on the desk.  
“This is Bryce,” introduced Smitty. “Bryce, this is my assistant, Mike.”  
“Nice to meet you,” stammered the blonde, painfully aware of how little cover he had.  
“Ooh, you're gonna be popular; I can tell.”  
“Mike, don't scare him. Just ignore him, Bryce. And boxers off as well.”  
Burning, he bent to slide his waistband away from his hips, past his knees, to his ankles. Once they'd hit the floor, Smitty began to circle him, observing him like a museum exhibit.  
“You may be tall, but you're pretty skinny. You got some nice muscle, though. No visible signs of disease.”  
“What's your name gonna be?” inquired Mike.  
“Name?”  
“Most people in this industry have a fake name they use for productions,” explained the man in the hat. “My name isn't really Smitty, you know.”  
“Oh,” gawked Bryce. “I hadn't really thought about it.”  
When Smitty swung back around to Mike’s side, he and his assistant shared a look.  
“Alright, Bryce. I'm willing to hire you after a few formalities. Mike is going to give you a few drug and std tests. Normally, I'd have you head to his office down the hall after we had spoken to do them, but since your case is special, I figured we'd do them here so you only have to strip the one time for now and feel a little more comfortable. Before we get to that, though, I have a few questions. One I have to ask is why. What made you decide to do this, Bryce?”  
The blonde felt the lump in his throat get just a little bit larger.  
“Money,” he sighed. “I need the money.”  
“How unoriginal,” pouted Smitty, and he took a pen and scratched it on a post-it. He handed it to Bryce, tilting his cap back. “We can discuss specifics later, but does that number look to be in the ballpark of what you'd need?”  
The lump in Bryce's throat vanished.  
“Yes. Yes it does.”

Evan left the building, feeling odd about his audition. Marcel had accompanied him, and he'd only been in the waiting room for two minutes before he was called in. Smitty had been quick about the affair, apparently already informed on Evan’s situation by Marcel. He'd had Evan strip, made a few notes on his physique, offered a healthy beginning sum of money to be negotiated later, and then sent him down the hall to his assistant’s office to have a few tests done and grab some paperwork.  
“Make sure you read these thoroughly before you sign them,” advised Mike. “Know what you're agreeing to.”  
“What am I agreeing to, exactly?”  
“We’ll go over it all together,” assured Marcel. “I can't right now, because I have a few more clients in the waiting room I have to attend to, but we can set up a meeting tomorrow.”  
“Alright, that sounds good,” Evan sighed, running a hand through his hair. Mike smiled at him.  
“Don't sweat it too much. Smitty always tries to make his actors as comfortable as possible.”  
Now Evan sat on the bus heading back to Brian’s place, staring at the papers in his lap but not really reading them. The bus was nearly full, and a woman in a power suit sat next to him chatting on a Bluetooth and sipping a coffee to punctuate her sentences. Unfortunately, the bus hit a bump mid-sip, and the woman splattered the beverage not only all over herself, but also the entirety of Evan’s bicep.  
“Shit!” she hissed, tugging a wad of tissues and napkins from her purse. “I'm so sorry!”  
“It's fine. At least it wasn't hot.”  
“No, I should've been more careful. Did it get on any of your papers?” Dabbing at his sleeve, she studied the documents laid across his thighs.  
He checked them over and saw one had a small spot the size of a dime. The woman’s eyebrows furrowed as her gaze skimmed across some of the terminology printed.  
“What are those, if you don't mind my asking?”  
“Contracts for a movie,” he said.  
“What kind of movie?”  
He paused, but what the hell, he didn't know this woman, would probably never see her again, and didn't really care what she thought of him.  
“A porno.”  
She pulled away from him, stricken.  
“You're a…”  
“A pornstar? No, not yet.”  
He held up the papers, feeling giddy from the discomfort of his seat mate.  
“These’ll change that, though. Oh, this is my stop. Nice meeting you.”  
He hopped down the steps, landed and the pavement, and strolled down the block.  
His shirt would probably stain, as would the paper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I think one more chapter after this: the smut begins. Dun dun duuuun!  
> ... I regret nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> So... This is my first fic on this site, and my first smutty fic ever. It's gonna take a chapter or two to get into the actual smut, but once it starts, it's not really gonna stop. Feel free to request stuff! :)  
> ~peace


End file.
